winter van life in arizona： it’s too crowded

Yeah I don't think I want to be here anymore. So I've been living in various BLM lands across Arizona for like almost four months now since I bought my van in November and it has just gotten progressively more crowded and I totally understand. The weather is beautiful here and it kind of sucks everywhere else right now but something has been happening to me. I'm getting old and I'm starting to turn into the Grinch. I cannot do noise anymore like at all. I can't do generators running. I can't do noisy people hanging out around campfires at night. I can't do kids screaming. I can't do music playing. I can't do hooping and hollering. I can't. I just I can't do large crowds. In every single one of my videos since January you'll notice that in the background of my van there's either somebody parked in the back of me or somebody just straight up drives by my van. I used to come to the desert for privacy and now I seriously think that I would have more privacy in the back of a Walmart parking lot. Listen, sharing is caring okay? But y'all are going to share amongst each other because I can't be here anymore. Peace out BLM spot. I'm gonna go get a snack. So I wanted to come to the lake today because it's very peaceful here and obviously peace is what I'm seeking. However, it's extremely windy and I don't even know if this this is not gonna be. Oh I got um a refreshment. Lake Day. Except I don't have a bottle opener and I don't know how to open this bottle. There's an airplane above us. Okay ladies and gentlemen. I'm still at the lake. I had to come inside because it's really windy and it was hard to get a super enjoyable experience out there when there's dirt blowing inside of my face and mouth and eyes and everywhere with this. Now I'm just enjoying the lake from my van but I still have a good view. I needed to explain my sudden disdain for BLM land that I recently have loved so much. If you guys know, maybe you don't if you haven't watched my videos, but I used to sleep exclusively at truck stops and rest areas because I felt safe there and it was just what I knew. But when I got to Arizona, there was so much BLM land and it seemed safe and seemed like something everyone was doing. So I came out to the desert and I loved it and I still love it except my taste has kind of been soured for BLM land recently because because of something that happened last week at the Superstition Mountains. So when I was at the Superstition Mountains last week, I had heard from other people about the puppety horse people, but I figured I wasn't going to encounter them. I don't know. I just felt like it wasn't going to be me and I was like also out during the day, you know, exploring and stuff. So there was really a small window that I had to encounter these horsey people. But every morning that I was there, they would ride right next to my van and I could hear them talking ---- about my van like while they walked past both times and they were talking about like how I parked and where I parked and just like really rude things and they were obviously saying it right next to my van because they wanted me to hear it. But that's just such a like sad thing to do and it sucks because it was really really beautiful there as you guys saw and I wanted to spend like a week there. But after two mornings of that, I was like no, I'm out. Yeah, after like the second day of experiencing borderline harassment, I was just ready to leave. And it's so weird how some people try to gatekeep nature. Like just because you're on a horse and there's other people living out here in vehicles does not mean that you are somehow better for this land or that you deserve to be here more than everybody else. Like these are ******* mountains, dude. Anybody can see mountains. It just seemed like these were the type of people that felt like they were above everybody else and they wanted to make it clear to everyone that they thought less of them. There's a really unwelcoming feeling, you know, like who wants to stay around that? And I don't know why they had to ride around my van every morning, maybe because I was new or something, I don't know. But I just felt extremely uncomfortable. But you know those people are always the most miserable. A positive experience of that trip was the first night that I was there. I was in bed, makeup off, just chilling and I got a knock on my door in the middle of the night. It was pitch black in the desert and I was frightened, obviously. That's like my worst fear, another one, and it happened. And so I said like, hello, and it was a friendly woman's voice. And so I took down my window cover and she was like, hi, I just wanted to see if you'd like to come over for dinner at the campfire and have hot dogs with us. And I was like, ah. My instincts were like, whoa chick, slow it down there, slow your roll. You know, it's the middle of the night. You're not gonna go have dinner with strangers. But then like my adventurous side was like, how are you ever gonna meet people if you don't say no to stuff like this? So I said yes, that I would meet her over there. She said okay. And so I changed, got dressed, put something warm on. It was freaking cold over there. Oh my gosh. I was sweating during the day all day. It was like 80s. But during the night times, those were legitimately the coldest nights I've had in my van since I've lived in my van. It was freezing. Anyway, I put on some warm clothes and I went over to the campfire. And they were cooking. I was obviously hesitant. I didn't eat any of the food at first. I didn't want to drink anything or accept anything. But I also didn't want to feel rude. Like I just went over there to I guess like spy on them or I don't know. But the more I got to know these people, the more I realized how kind they were. I learned later that these were literal homeless people. And they were the nicest, most giving people that I've ever met. They insisted that I eat dinner with them every single night. And they never wanted me to bring anything, never allowed me to bring anything. They were like we have more than plenty, which I doubt. But they just they never asked me for anything. They never wanted anything except for my company. I don't know why it's always the people who have the least they give the most. I guess maybe because they know how it feels to have nothing. I don't know what's next. I just know I can't do public land in southern Arizona anymore. I'm a If I go north, it's still too cold. And if I go south, I'm in Mexico. To be continued I guess.